


Sharp Shock to Your Soft Side

by crushcandles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comeplay, Condoms, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22387477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushcandles/pseuds/crushcandles
Summary: Steve’s looking down at his belt; they both are. Bucky doesn’t help him even though Steve has some trouble, jerking his belt too far to get it undone, jamming the buttons, shaking as he gets his fingers in to pull his trousers and shorts down his thighs.“Jesus Christ, Captain America.” It comes outkee-rist, which is a sin, but nothing compared to what Bucky’s seeing.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 264





	Sharp Shock to Your Soft Side

**Author's Note:**

> Set during _Captain America: The First Avenger_. Title from [Soft Shock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQnetLrXbLs) by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Bucky can’t believe it when he sees it. They're in what's a strong contender for the world's most boring meeting, sitting around an oval table in the grey dark while Agent Carter clicks them through the slideshow of a possible Hydra base, reviewing what her research team has assembled. It could be a big base, full of interesting stuff, but that doesn't make the meeting any less boring. The Commandos have a few of these missions under their collective belt now so watching a slideshow about deserted, snowy buildings seems like overkill. 

Even having Carter run the meeting doesn't help anything. She's half-facing them, hip leaning on the table, gesturing with the remote she's using on the projector, looking like a dynamo, but even she isn't selling this Hydra base mission. She's going through the slides dully, speaking in a monotone that robs her accent of any of its verve. The most exciting parts so far have been when the Colonel interrupts to say something equally boring.

Bucky's Steve's second-in-command, so he doesn't have to attend these exploratory meetings. But he's Steve's SIC, so he does. Doesn't change the fact he's wishing he could slide under the table and sneak to the door. The lights are off; Carter might not notice he's gone until it's too late. 

Ignoring the urge to sigh, Bucky leans forward, folding his hands on the table. Carter clicks to another slide featuring another grey building. Beside Bucky, Steve blinks at the building once, twice, like he's memorizing it. He's sitting up straight like no one else is, hands under the table, obediently taking in everything Carter's saying. He’s so tuned in Bucky can't even hear him breathing even though his mouth is open. 

Carter puts her free hand on her hip, red nails shining in the projector's light. Her suit is plum-coloured, well-fitted as always. Steve blink-blinks at her hand too, his mouth just open enough that Bucky can't hear him. 

She clicks to another slide and beside Bucky, Steve pushes back on one heel, so his chair slides away from the table a few inches. 

For a single hopeful moment, Bucky thinks Steve's pushing his chair back to announce that this meeting is a waste of time and he's not sitting through it anymore. But, of course he's not. Steve's just adjusting himself in the chair, shifting his legs around. His face is still rapt on Carter, taking in her droning. 

Leaned over the table how he is, Bucky can see all of Steve instead of just his face. He's not in his full uniform, just the trousers and a simple shirt, well-pressed. He’s taken to refusing to wear either of his uniforms unless he's out in public or on a mission. It's such a little, soft rebellion, considering what great big rebellions Bucky knows Steve is capable of, but he'll take anything he can get.

With the chair pushed back and without any of Steve's bulkier clothes on, Bucky sees it. Steve shifts again in the chair, moving his weight from one hip to another, which is strange. Bucky's seen him maintain a crouch knee-deep in mud for more than an hour, his hair the only part of him moving and that’s just because the wind was blowing. Bucky glances back at his face, but he's still locked on Carter as she reviews possible entry points. Bucky checks on the slideshow, and once he sees an empty white stairwell, he looks back to Steve, right as he moves again.

This time, Steve shifts back in the chair a little, digging his ass into the seat before slouching his hips out. It's not a big shift, but it draws Bucky's eyes. Carter's still on the blistering white stairwell slide, which casts enough light for Bucky to get a good look at the lump in the front of Steve's trousers. No wonder Steve's sliding around in his chair, with a stiffy like that trapped in his drawers. It must be bent in half and painful as hell. 

The white light shutters as Carter clicks to a new slide and Bucky flicks his eyes up, although he can't see anything on the slide. There’s nothing but the imprint of Steve's dick on his vision. He's not sure how long he was looking. Sometimes, since he came back, it feels like he can hear and see things differently, better than he could before. He hopes this was one of those times, and no one caught him gawking at Steve like that. 

He's not looking, but beside him, Steve straightens up in his chair. His eyes are still on Carter, but Bucky swears he hears Steve sigh, so softly in his open mouth.

*

The rest of the meeting is agony, but at least it’s not boring at all. Bucky spends the whole time competing with Steve to see who can stare at Agent Carter harder, and he probably wins. Inside, he's full of a strange kind of horny empathy for Steve. No one wants to be trapped with an erection. Bucky's been there, in school or church, and it's embarrassing. But what, _what_ must Steve have been thinking of, to pop one in a meeting? Anything Bucky thinks of gets him dangerously close to the same predicament Steve's in. 

Carter finally cuts the meeting off after a thousand hours, and the note-taker turns the lights on. The mood comes up with the lights and the knowledge they're all free to go. Bucky scrubs his hands over his face and comes out of it to see Carter smiling at Steve, and Steve smiling right back at her. 

"That's real good work, Peggy," Steve says. "I think it's worth checking out, for sure." He's still sitting. He taps the pile of papers in front of him. "Bucky and I, we'll go over this with the guys and then bring you in."

Peggy nods at him, pleased. "Very good. Steve. Barnes." She nods at Bucky too. "See you soon, gentlemen."

Bucky nods back at her as she takes her portfolio and leaves. Beside him, Steve's slowly gathering up his papers, taking his time sorting them. Cooling off. Bucky waits the thousand-year minute it takes, even though normally he'd have breezed out as soon as the lights came up.

He looks when Steve stands up, being very careful about it because it's not dark in here anymore and Carter's not around to provide a distraction. But the front of Steve's trousers are flat now, even when Steve tugs on the pleats. 

"You comin'?" Steve asks.

Bucky looks up. Steve's smiling at him now. He doesn't look flustered at all.

"Yeah," Bucky says, feeling like a wreck. He stands up, jamming his own papers into a pile and following Steve out into the hall. 

By habit, they move away from the command centre, going toward the private quarters and the barracks. Bucky walks a step behind Steve. His legs are so leaden it feels impossible to catch up. Ahead of him, Steve’s head is bent so he can look at his papers and walk at the same time. It looks like he just got a haircut. The back of his neck is smooth and dry. Usually he gets sweaty there. Bucky remembers him getting sweaty there. 

Steve has private quarters, closer to command than the barracks, where Bucky sleeps with the Commandos and other men. Bucky stops at Steve’s door, Steve a step ahead.

“Oh,” Steve says, looking up from his papers. “You wanna play cards or something before we brief the guys? That was a long meeting. I could use a break.”

Bucky can’t talk. He manages a snort, already opening the door. 

Steve’s quarters aren’t big. He’s an important guy, not nearly as important as some of the guys with less flashy titles, but _Captain America_ is enough for a room with the essentials: a desk, a sink, a bed, and a door that locks. It’s cramped with both of them in there, but Bucky’s used to cramped spaces with Steve in them. He closes the door behind them and moves.

Steve drops the papers. He drops them because Bucky grabs both his elbows and pushes him up against the wall next to the desk, giving him a rough kiss. 

They haven’t, not for what has felt like a thousand years to Bucky. Not since Bucky got his papers to serve. Steve’s kissed him a couple times since Bucky got back, but they were all sweet things, angel kisses compared to those given by the little devil Bucky loves. 

Now, Steve’s stiff with surprise in his arms, but muscle memory’s made him open his mouth so Bucky can get the taste of his tongue for a few moments. His mouth is warm and soft, clean-tasting and familiar.

He pulls off, but just to knock his forehead into Steve’s. 

“Steve,” he asks roughly, dying to know. “What were you thinking about in that meeting?”

“What?” Steve croaks. His eyes are wide and already his mouth has gone rosy. Bucky remembers that. 

Bucky moves to balance on one hand on the wall so the other’s free.

“You musta been thinkin’ some kinda thoughts,” Bucky puts his hand to the place on Steve’s belly where his shirt tucks into his trousers, “to pop a stiff one in a meeting as boring as that.” He drags his hand down to grab a handful through Steve’s trousers.

“What?” Steve says again. His whole face is going pink now.

His dick is soft in Bucky’s hand. That’s not the surprise. They took their time after the meeting, and there’s nothing sexy about the bland hallways in this building. The surprise is the sheer embarrassed look on Steve’s face. Bucky lets him go, backing up a few inches.

“I wasn’t,” Steve says.

“Then why did you look like _that_?”

Steve blinks at him. “Like _what_?” 

Bucky backs off him completely. His own face is starting to burn, but he plows on. “I saw you, Rogers. You were squirming around like a kid in that meeting. I saw the hard-on.”

Steve’s mouth goes a couple of times before he says, “That meeting was boring. I was moving around because I was trying to listen to Peggy but it was _boring_.”

It’s very like Steve to ignore the important part of what Bucky said. He’s always been a weasel like that when it suits him.

“And the stiffy?” Bucky prompts. 

“I-” Steve’s red-hot in the face now. He almost never gets this red when he’s turned-on, just when he’s upset. “I wasn’t hard.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I wasn’t!” Steve insists. “I wouldn’t – it’s just – fine, _look_.” He starts fumbling with his belt in the bare space Bucky’s left between them. 

Steve’s looking down at his belt; they both are. Bucky doesn’t help him even though Steve has some trouble, jerking his belt too far to get it undone, jamming the buttons, shaking as he gets his fingers in to pull his trousers and shorts down his thighs. 

“Jesus Christ, Captain America.” It comes out _kee- **rist**_ , which is a sin, but nothing compared to what Bucky’s seeing.

Between Steve's big, muscular thighs he's got a big, thick cock, resting on balls that look heavy. Bucky hasn't made a close study of cock, not in dancehall backrooms or even in the army, but he thinks it might be the biggest he's ever seen. And it's soft, just laying there. Eye-openingly big, and not even hard. Bucky can't even imagine. It's still cut; the serum didn't change that, or if it did they took care of it before they let Steve out into the world. It and Steve's balls are the same shade of pink as Steve's mouth after Bucky kisses him. 

With something like that in his pants, no wonder it looks like Steve’s popped one when he takes a seat. It’s the kind of cock the boys would use the word _meat_ for, laughing as they shake their half-closed fists around. 

For a few moments, Bucky struggles to reconcile. He can remember Steve: naked with his skinny dick hard, laughing as he jumped into bed with Bucky to escape the cold. It's hard to believe this is the same guy, same dick.

Steve’s not hard now, and he’s not laughing either. He’s blushed from his forehead to his shoulders and looking at the floor. His hands are clenched in his trousers and shorts and his jaw is set. He’s letting Bucky look, but he’s not comfortable with it.

"Well," Bucky says quietly, "that'll teach me to make assumptions."

Steve takes a breath, glancing at him. 

Bucky puts his hands on Steve. He doesn't go right for the goods, although he's plenty curious. Steve looks too unsure of him for that direct of a route. Instead, he puts his hands on Steve's hands, still fisted in his clothes. He squeezes over Steve's fists and takes hold of his wrists, stepping back in.

"Looks real pretty," Bucky murmurs. "Does it work?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He has faith in science in general and in Stark in particular. He goes chest-to-chest with Steve and kisses him. He treats Steve first to one of the sweet kisses Steve's been giving him as payback, taking his time. Steve's his boy; Bucky knows how to work with him when he's skittish. He keeps kissing Steve, pulling away and easing back in until Steve shakes Bucky off his wrists so he can get a grip on Bucky’s shoulders instead, hauling him in with tight hands and an open mouth. 

The sound of their kissing fills the room: their mouths meeting, their breathing, hands going over clothes and skin. 

Bucky breaks it off when Steve starts rubbing against him a little. 

“Mmm.” He kisses Steve’s jaw. “Would you look at that.”

Between them, Steve’s cock is getting hard, fattening up some, even pinker than it was before. It looks obscene against the pleated green of Bucky’s uniform trousers. 

“Can I?” Bucky asks.

“Uh-huh.”

They both watch Bucky run his knuckle over the soft curve of Steve’s cock. It may look like a dream, but it feels just like a cock, warm and silky-skinned. It bobs under Bucky's petting touch, getting a little harder. Once he makes it to the root of Steve's cock, Bucky goes down to the head, touching it lightly with his thumb. It's just barely damp, too early for anything more than a little sweat. Steve exhales when Bucky's thumb rubs over the slit. 

"You good with this?" Bucky asks, fitting his fingers around Steve's cock. It's still swelling, softness giving way, but he doesn't want to misstep. Not now, not when he’s got Steve literally in his hand.

"Yeah," Steve whispers, arms circling Bucky, his face softening up as Bucky starts an exploratory stroke. 

With the urgency in the room muted now, Bucky plays around. When he was small, Steve's libido was fickle, ruled by his temper and his illnesses. Often, due to one or the other, he couldn't handle a rough touch. So Bucky starts from there, stroking slowly and with light fingers. Steve sighs just how he used to, forehead dropping to Bucky's shoulder. Overcome with nostalgic tenderness, Bucky cups the back of Steve's neck. It's sweating. 

The tip of Steve's cock is sensitive, Bucky discovers, but in a good way. If he plays with the slit or teases under the head with the webbing of his thumb, Steve twitches, fingers digging into Bucky's shirt. It doesn't take long before a fat drop of precome drips over the join of Bucky's thumb.

Pressing his thumb to his hand, Bucky says, "Hmm. That's new." Before, Steve stayed dry unless you gave him some grease. When he came, he could usually muster up a squirt or two, but sometimes he was dry then too. 

"Yeah," Steve pants as Bucky uses that fluid to keep stroking his cock. "It, I, uh. There's a lot."

"Yeah?" 

"Y-yeah," Steve stammers, hips lifting, cock giving Bucky another drip to play with.

Harder, faster strokes have Steve struggling to hold his hips still. His breath comes out carefully measured against Bucky's shoulder. Bucky's fist gets wetter and his strokes get faster. Steve's cock twitches in his fist.

"How fast do you come now?" Bucky murmurs. Steve's never felt this hard in his hand this quick, or ever.

Steve gulps. "I-I can last a while, but sometimes I just gotta." His hand lands on Bucky's wrist. "Usually I can go again after."

"Jesus," Bucky says, which is a sin, but not as bad as Steve's hand stopping his. 

Steve just holds him still for a minute, taking deep breaths. "We should," he says, straightening up. He pushes his trousers down to his knees.

"Yes," Bucky agrees. "Gimme some room to work.”

Pants off, unbuttoning his shirt, Steve nods at the door. 

"You should lock it," he says

Good idea, given Captain America's naked and sporting an erection that would make most of the world's population feel faint if they knew it existed. Bucky goes to the door, snapping the lock like it's his mission. Behind him, Steve picks up the papers he dropped and opens a drawer in his desk. Bucky turns around to see Steve setting out a tin of grease and a couple of rubbers. Bucky cranes his neck to see into the drawer. It's got a lot less rubbers in it than are in Bucky's condom ration.

Bucky whistles at the thought that Steve’s been so busy. He’s too impressed to be immediately jealous. He can worry about that later, when he’s not with Steve.

“Rogers, you must have a line of people around the block waitin’ for their turn on that thing.” 

“No,” Steve bites out. “I don’t know.” He glances at Bucky. “You know I don’t.”

What Steve is too stubborn to see won’t hurt him, Bucky thinks, although he knows it’s at least a line of two. Given how Steve’s acting though, Bucky’s first up. He’s good with that; he’s been waiting the longest.

Bucky goes to him. “Well, there should be,” he tells Steve, and kisses him. Steve meets him halfway – more than halfway – hot-mouthed and grabby. He starts wrestling with the buttons on Bucky's shirt. Bucky lets him have the victory of two before he catches Steve's wrists in one hand, pinning them to his own chest. He goes for Steve's balls with the other one.

Steve squeaks when Bucky cups them. They lift up involuntarily. Bucky follows the weight, squeezing very gently. Steve used to like that kind of stuff, as long as you were careful. He still must, if his pushy kisses are anything to go by. Bucky passes his knuckle over the seam between Steve's balls and Steve sighs. 

His cock is leaking again, a thick trail sliding down the shaft. Curious, Bucky collects it on a knuckle so he can taste it. It's strong like the sea, but good. It makes the part of Bucky's brain that houses all his dumb animal thoughts light up. He wants more and he knows how to get it. He starts stroking Steve again, twisting his wrist. Things get wet quickly.

Steve's looking at Bucky's face like he can't believe it, that Bucky's doing this to him. Still pink and stunned, he looks down at Bucky's hand on him, the precome rising up with his hand every stroke.

"Oh," he moans, "you gotta -" He wrestles his hands free to get one of the condoms off the desk. He bites the wrapper, tearing it with his teeth. He's done move that before, for sure. His fingers are a little shaky getting it out though.

"Wait," he says to Bucky, who has to move his hand or risk getting a condom rolled over it. Steve gets it on, biting his lip the whole time, and then he relaxes.

"Okay," he says, relieved, "okay."

“What’s this for?” Bucky asks, still stuck on the image of Steve using his perfect Captain America teeth to rip open a rubber wrapper. 

"Helps," Steve murmurs, and bites Bucky's jaw with those square, white teeth of his. It's another weasel answer, but Bucky doesn't care enough to call Steve on it, not when he's free to keep touching Steve. 

For the moment, he ignores Steve's cock. Instead, he thumbs the smooth broad lines of Steve's shoulders, the swell of his pecs, his tight nipples. Steve sighs and squirms. He seems to be more sensitive all over, and that's got Bucky thinking about a thousand different ways he could handle this. 

He squeezes a thick handful of Steve's left thigh. "I get more than one chance at this, right?"

"Mmm?" Steve licks a sideways stripe over Bucky's throat. He's got his fingers tucked in behind Bucky's belt, perilously close to Bucky's hard cock in his trousers. 

"I get to come back here again and do this with you," Bucky clarifies.

Steve lifts his face. He looks Bucky's face all over, searching for something. He finds whatever it is because he smiles in the cheeky, shitbird way Bucky remembers, the right side of his mouth lifting higher than the left. 

"I'd prefer it if you stayed and did it again, but whatever you want, Barnes."

Obviously, taking a trip in that machine didn't make Steve any smarter; a normal guy would know better than to sass someone when you're as naked as your birthday. He yelps when Bucky pinches his nipples, but then he laughs, bright and loud. When Bucky kisses him, the laugh turns warm and humming, and he goes sweet in Bucky's arms. 

"Just checking," Bucky says when he's shut Steve up. "I wanted to know how many of my options I had to fit into one turn."

Still sweet, Steve says, "As many as you want."

"Good answer." Bucky turns Steve around, pulling him back into Bucky's body, kissing Steve's shoulder before he hooks his chin over it. It makes for a great view: the swell of Steve's pecs with his tight nipples; the muscles in his belly; his stiff cock, cloudy pink because of the rubber on it. Steve's hand flexes, lifting, but Bucky's seen that one before and flicks him before he can cover any part of himself.

"Nah," he says to the blush on Steve's neck. "'M lookin' at you."

Steve's hand lowers. "You could be touching."

Bucky hums. "You're right about that one." He touches Steve in the order he saw him: nipples, stomach, the bare root of his cock. He pushes his hips against Steve’s ass so there’s no mistaking how much he likes what’s on offer.

"You're killing me," Steve sighs. But he doesn't struggle, just leans his head back on Bucky's shoulder. He manages to turn his head enough to kiss Bucky's throat with a soft open mouth.

"Rough life," Bucky tells him, but takes pity, stroking Steve slowly. The condom moves a little on Steve's cock until Bucky grips him harder.

After a minute, Steve's threatening to melt right into Bucky, leaning on him, head loose on his neck. His hand finds Bucky's wrist again, but he's not stopping Bucky, just holding on, fingers tucked under Bucky's cuff. His hips roll against Bucky in a gentle tide, forward into Bucky’s fist, back against Bucky’s cock, taking what he wants.

The condom starts sliding more, but not because Bucky's gripping it wrong. There's fluid filling the tip and coating the shaft of Steve's cock. Bucky can see the white streaks of it and feel how slickly the condom is moving. 

"Baby," Bucky murmurs, "you comin'?"

Steve shakes his head. "Not yet." But his eyes are closed and he bites his lip. He’s close.

 _Sometimes I just gotta,_ he’d said. _Usually I can go again after._

“You _ready_ to come?” Bucky asks.

Steve’s mouth drops open. “Uh-huh. Please.”

Bucky remembers hearing that _please_ a thousand times, soft and begging, a sign Steve had given up being bossy in order to get what he wanted. It goes through Bucky like a shock. He hasn’t heard a sweeter sound in years.

“You got it, pal,” Bucky says, ready to give Steve anything he could ever ask for.

Bucky grips Steve’s dick harder, no more funny stuff. Just the left hand holding the edge of the condom on Steve’s cock while the right gives him what he needs. Fast strokes in a steady rhythm, the pace for racing to your orgasm. Steve moans through his open mouth, gripping Bucky hard, then harder.

Bucky feels it happen first, Steve's belly and thighs tightening up as his cock swells just a little more in Bucky's fist. Then it twitches, once twice, and Bucky knows he's got it. He keeps stroking, craning over Steve's shoulder to see. The tip of the condom floods white with the first pulse; the second drowns out the pink of Steve's cockhead. There's more after that, Steve's hips flexing, his cock jumping, but it's just white all down the inside of the rubber, too much to see Steve’s cock. 

"There you go, c'mon," Bucky says mindlessly over Steve's moaning. He's transfixed by everything: Steve against his body, his smell, the sight of him coming after what feels like a thousand years without this particular pleasure. 

Bucky doesn't give up on stroking Steve, determined to get it all now that he's got his chance. His palm on the condom is dry but the strokes are slippery with Steve's jizz on the inside, a strange and compelling sensation. 

Finally, when Steve's cock finally stops twitching and Bucky can see the pink of it through the rubber, Steve picks his head up, whimpering. Bucky kisses the corner of Steve's mouth that he can reach.

"S'that it, sweetheart?" he asks. He leaves off on the quick strokes, instead squeezing his fist from the head down the shaft to make Steve shiver. Come wets the fingers he still has on the rim of the condom when he does it.

"Yeah," Steve sighs, even as his ass and thighs clench one more time against Bucky's hips. He tilts back, finding Bucky's mouth with his rosy, loose one. His fingers trace slowly over Bucky's hot wrist.

Bucky holds Steve by the waist and the jaw so he can't go anywhere, not when Bucky needs him so badly. He licks deeply into Steve's mouth and grinds his hurting cock on Steve's ass, taking what he wants. Sugar-soft from his orgasm, Steve lets him, sucking on his tongue and spreading his legs so Bucky has a good groove to rub into.

He was so focused on Steve’s cock he’d almost forgotten about his own. It’s all he can think about now, trapped in his uniform trousers and painful as hell, teased by Steve’s bare skin so close. 

“Fuck,” Bucky says, ripping his mouth away from Steve’s. He grips Steve’s chin harder with his wet fingers, arm around his belly, riding the cleft of Steve’s ass.

Steve’s hips roll back against his, once, twice, before he squeezes Bucky’s wrist.

“Wait,” he says thickly.

Bucky puts his sweaty forehead against Steve’s sweaty nape. It wouldn’t take much more for him to make a mess of his drawers, not with Steve’s firm peach of an ass spread against him like this.

“Oh, God,” he says, forcing his hips to stop. “Jesus.” 

He takes a tough breath. “Sorry.” He kisses the sweaty skin under his mouth.

Steve laughs and then clears his throat. His hot body sags back into Bucky’s, his ass shifting against Bucky’s erection, which is the only kind of torture Bucky wants for the rest of his life.

“It’s okay,” he says, thumb running up the inside of Bucky’s arm as far as he can reach. “I just thought you’d want more.” Against Bucky’s wet fingers, he nods to the desk. His tin of grease and extra rubbers are there, just waiting to be used.

It’d be easiest to just finish rubbing off on Steve’s ass like this. He could do the walk of shame back to the barracks, or Steve would let him borrow some clothes. Or if he could manage to wait, he could get his pants down and use a little of Steve’s grease to slick up his cock and Steve’s thighs and do it that way. They used to do that plenty. Steve was skinnier back then; he had to use his fingers on the tip of Bucky’s cock because it usually poked through. Steve’s thighs are thick and strong now though; they’d squeeze the orgasm out of Bucky no problem. He’d be a real mess then.

Thinking of that, Bucky shudders, resisting the urge to move. 

Steve manages to turn enough to smile at Bucky and catch his eye.

“Whatever you want,” he promises.

Bucky leans in to kiss him on the mouth. “You’re an angel.”

Steve hums into Bucky’s mouth. He’s still smiling.

They unclasp slowly, mouths first, and then bodies. Bucky’s reluctant to let Steve go, even though he knows the parting won’t last long. He gives into the urge to touch, turning Steve, running his hands over Steve’s shoulders and flanks. He’s got this now. He won’t let it go.

Steve bites his lip, going shy and blushed. 

“This part’s a little,” he says, “gross.”

“Hmm?” Bucky says, too busy drinking in the sight of Steve to see his hands at first. At Steve’s embarrassed little shrug he looks down to see Steve peeling the condom off his cock. He’s trying to be careful and the condom keeps some of the mess in it, but there’s still plenty of come all over Steve’s pink cock, dripping down to his balls. 

If it looks like this with the condom, Bucky can only imagine what it’s like if Steve doesn’t use one.

“Goddamn,” Bucky grunts.

Still flushed, holding the limp condom, Steve says, “I’ll just –” tipping his head to the sink.

“No,” Bucky says, getting a hold on Steve’s wrist. “No way.”

“What?” Steve says. “But I –” 

Licking his lips, Bucky says, “I’ll suck it off you. Go lay down on the bed.”

Steve blushes from his hair all the way down his throat. It makes his eyes look so blue and his teeth so white.

“Goddamn,” he says softly. But he turns like a charm, dropping the condom in the trash by the sink on his way to the bed. Bucky takes those few precious seconds to open the fastenings on his trousers, which is an incredible relief and only the first of the thousand things he plans to do. Then he follows after Steve.

“You still like gettin’ fucked?” Bucky asks, knee on the bed.

“Don’t know,” Steve says, but he’s got a grin on his pink face, sweet on finding out. He moves up the sheets, leaning back to make a space for Bucky, his big cock still hard on his belly.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on tumblr: [crushcandles](https://crushcandles.tumblr.com/).


End file.
